Tourniquet
by Fallen-Angel-Spirit
Summary: The loss of a loved one is always profoundly traumatic. After the death of his wife Thranduil struggles to cope with his grief, being a single father to his son, and the threat to his kingdom. In a world where evil is once again establishing it's influence, will his friends succeed in picking up the pieces...or is it too late? Rated T because I'm paranoid! Check The Chapters Again!
1. Prologue

_Disclaimer: If I owned any of Tolkien's works, I wouldn't be writing "fanfiction". One can always hope, though...*goes back to tracing family trees*. Seriously though, only the host of OCs in this fic actually belong to me._

_Hello guys! It has been a long time (three years) since I actually posted this fic, but I've decided to edit and re-post it as part of a challenge to get me writing again. There was a time when I would write constantly but for the fast 12 months I've written absolutely nothing. Now I need something to ease me back into it, thus this fic was reborn! I hope you enjoy it! _  
_Please let me know what you think in a review, whether it is good or bad, you have some advice/criticism, or help with my Sindarin – which is dismal at best. I'm also looking for a beta reader, if anyone is interested? That alone might keep me writing...I have a tendency to let my lack of confidence get me down. Thanks!_

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Prologue

Two beautiful ladies knelt in a glade in the forest. The first lady was silver-haired and slender, with a merry face and laughing eyes. The second lady was tall and lithe. Long silver hair hung in an intricate braid down to the small of her back. Her skin was pale, but healthy; the sunlight, dappled by the canopy of the forest, seemed to make her skin shimmer. She was clad in a simple green dress with no adornment beyond simple embroidery, and she knelt on the damp earth in pursuit of a small flower.

Lostariel forced her small shovel into the earth. The plant before her was perfect, and though it may not have liked being uprooted, she desperately wanted it for her garden. The elf sighed and rocked back into a kneeling position casting a smile at the little boy playing next to her. So absorbed in his game was he that he did not notice. Instead he let out a pretend warrior cry and moved his archers through the forest floor, his stuffed pony Mellon at his side. She smiled anyway. Her son was nearly five now, and doing as well as he should be; he could speak well, he had learned to run before he could walk and had a very creative imagination, though he had almost no friends to share it with. He had been born in dark times, and the few other elflings in Eryn Galen were much older than him. _It's a pity_, she thought, turning her attention back to the plant whose roots were still firmly embedded in the soil before her. _When I was a child I never lacked company. There was always my friends and I, who ran almost wild through the corridors of Menegroth._ Lostariel smiled at the memories, of her friends, of Thranduil when they were young. She stopped to watch her son again, as if by thinking of his adar she had to check that he was still here too. He was. She almost joined in with him as he threw back his tiny head and laughed because her friend was tickling him. She stared at his flaxen hair, whipping back and forth as he shook his head.  
"No! Nana, tell her to stop!" The little boy shouted, wriggling away from Faelwen, snatching up Mellon and toddling over to Lostariel, who sat him on her lap.  
"Hush, little one! Calm down and listen to the trees." The song of the trees always made him go quiet. From the moment he was born the trees had called to him. He loved them as much as his parents. With Mellon tightly clasped to his chest he crawled over to the base of a large oak tree and, closing his eyes, sank into the embrace of the old tree, which began an entirely different song just for the entertainment of its new friend. A happy smile played on the elfling's lips. Faelwen let out a quiet laugh.  
"He's a sweet child, Lostariel. I never saw any better. He truly is a credit to you and Aran Thranduil." A bubble of pride blew itself up inside of her, and she was about to thank her old friend when she was interrupted.  
"Nana? What is that?" Her child bounced excitedly up and down in her lap and thrust his miniature fist out towards one of the plants. She followed the finger with her eyes.  
"That, ion nin, is a butterfly. It is very pretty, is it not?" The elfling nodded his head vigorously.  
"Yes! Its blue, and green, and black! Can we take it home, nana?" He turned his lovely blue eyes on her. His eyes were definitely his adar's. Lostariel and Faelwen both smiled down at him with expressions of love and adoration.  
"No, we can't. You see, tithen pen, this glade we sit in is its home. It wouldn't want to be separated from the place it is used to. Besides, they are very difficult to catch."  
"Oh." The boy's face fell for a second, but as soon as it fell it was lit back up.  
"Can I go look for more, nana?" She nodded and saw him tear off as fast as his little legs could bear him, Mellon in tow. Her thoughts lingered on the butterfly for a second, and then she spotted a particular type of plant, one that she had been after for quite some time. She gathered her tools and moved over to the plant. She was so caught up in her work that she didn't notice the time fly by.  
"Lostariel! Where's Legolas?" She raised her head sharply, immediately scanning the surrounding area for a flash of gold, a quickly stifled mischievous giggle, any sign of her son. There was none to be found.  
"Legolas? Where are you, tithen pen?" No answer. A lump established its presence in her throat. Faelwen promptly took up the shout and began to search the trees around the glade. "Legolas? Game over! Come back to nana!" But still there was no sweet voice. Her panic began to mount as she paced through the forest, shouting for her elfling. Faelwen followed some two or three meters behind, but Lostariel wasn't stopping. She had to find Legolas. How far could one little elfling have gone? Her chest constricted.  
"LEGOLAS!"  
Silence. Her scream had been met by silence. And then, as if all her frantic prayers to the Valar had been answered...  
"Nana! I found a really beautiful butterfly! Come and see!" Relief flooded through every bone, every vein, in her body and she slid gracefully to the ground beside her son, whose gaze was fixed avidly on a butterfly with delicate violet wings. Her heart began its tune once more as her lungs drew in a great breath of air. She snatched him up in what would've been a selfish way had she not just thought she'd lost him, and swung him round once before clutching him tight like a lifeline. He was her lifeline.  
"Yes," She laughed breathlessly, "it is beautiful. Well done! Though perhaps next time you will not stray so far from the glade in your mighty search, hmm?" She caught Faelwen's eye as she put her son down and they shared a quick smile. When she looked back down, Legolas had picked up Mellon and was hugging him again. He gazed up at her and shook his head slowly. Lostariel fought hard to fight back tears of relief and joy. She should have known he would wander off.  
"No nana. I'll stay close." She smiled at him, satisfied, and Faelwen led them back in the direction of the glade. Though the incident was over in less than five minutes, it had seemed like an eternity, and one she wouldn't forget for a while at that.  
"Nana?"  
"Yes?" Lostariel glanced down at Legolas, who was crushing Mellon against his chest. His perfect little face was scrunched up in a confused expression. But she saw fear there too, and when her elfling's bottom lip began to tremble she frowned.  
"What is it, tithen pen?" He glanced around himself warily, as if they were being watched.  
"The trees. They are different. I don't understand." Now that she listened properly, Lostariel could hear it too. It was a whisper, a hoarse, scraping sound that was unnatural for a tree.

It was the voice of fear.

The trees spoke of danger heading towards them on swift feet, bringing death with them. Lostariel saw that her friend understood too; Faelwen's face was as pale as her silver hair. She placed the palm of her hand against the nearest tree trunk. Immediately the ancient beech told her to take her little one and fly. She did just that.  
"Come, ion nin. Come!" She took hold of his hand and lifted him into her arms. With a glance at Faelwen, who nodded once, she began to run as fast as she could. The forest was a blur of greens and browns as she ran, so that it seemed as though the trees themselves were racing her, instead of the other way around. She could almost have believed it if it weren't for the aching burn beginning to form at the back of her throat. Panic was making her breathless just as much as running. Legolas knew as well as she what the trees said; he just didn't know about the dangers of the world. All she could think about were the agitated groans all around her, steadily rising in volume until it seemed as though the trees were screaming at them to go faster, to flee the coming dark. What evil was following? Orcs were easily lost, for their tracking skills were of no use if the intended prey was seeking the safety of the trees. But spiders...

Faelwen screamed. There was a thud from behind them and a screeching sound that Lostariel was certain was not the trees. Legolas's grip on her neck tightened into a strangle hold.  
"Nana!" Instinctively placing her hand across her child's eyes, she whipped around. Faelwen lay still on the ground. Blood pulsed from some hidden back injury. Shelob's offspring were unique; they were more the size of grown horses than your average spider, in various cases larger, though the principle characteristics still remained intact. It was such a monster that had felled Lostariel's best friend. It towered over her corpse, sting still buried deep. Panic and despair flared and adrenaline hit a high as Lostariel launched herself forwards once more. An angry shriek and a snarl seemed to ring in her ears. She knew that the spider was hunting them. Nothing but weapons could counter it. She shifted her arms and felt her son curl up even more, shoving his head into her shoulder and burying his face in her dress. His whimpers were muffled by the fabric. "Hush, ion nin. Don't worry, it'll be over soon." She tried to soothe him, to do a naneth's job, but the words came out as breathless pants. Branches seemed to snatch and grab at her whereas just this morning they had been as friendly as ever. Paths wound around and treacherous roots tried to trip her up. Her breath caught in her lungs and even her survival instinct couldn't force it out. A knot had formed in her stomach and it now slithered up to her heart, where it twisted and writhed like a snake intent on squeezing the life out of her. She forced her trembling legs to pick up the pace. She knew it would end one way or the other. If none of the patrols had caught sight of the spider, then there was only the one solution. She would die. Not her son, though. No. There was surprisingly little emotion as she though if this. Certainly no second thoughts. It was a naneth's obligation to protect her child, and through primal instinct she would to just that. If there was any regret at all for her choice of action it was that she'd had so little time to spend with Thranduil and her baby.  
She realized that the spider had gained on her and she had very little time to spare. She quickly scanned her surroundings again, looking desperately for somewhere, anywhere that would shelter her child.  
"Look, here!" Lostariel skidded to a halt and jogged to a large oak tree with a hole in its trunk. Just big enough for Legolas. "Listen here, ion nin." She gently thrust her elfling into the sanctuary the trees offered. "I need you to play a game for me."  
"But I don't w-" Branches snapped, closer and closer. She cut him off. She didn't want to; she'd never tire of hearing that golden voice. But this was urgent.  
"Nana needs you to be very brave for her, okay?" Her voice shook and she tried to calm herself, but to no avail. More screeching. There was more than one. "You have to be very quiet, like a mouse, only you're not allowed to move. Be still, and cover your ears and close your eyes. We're going to see who can do it for the longest, alright?" He nodded and obediently shut his mouth and placed tiny hands over his ears, one arm still wrapped tight around Mellon, though fear still shone bright in open eyes. Then their light was blocked out, too.

Swallowing reflexively, she thanked the tree, which had drawn its roots closer round Legolas. She had to do this. To be brave for him. Thranduil had told her before Legolas was even born that he'd sacrifice his life for his child. She had replied immediately with the same words. Now, a time had come for her to do so.  
She turned around to face the gigantic black mass of bristly flesh and glinting black eyes. She stood her ground, head held high, though inside her thoughts were only for her little boy. It clicked at her, stomping its spindly forelegs in eager anticipation. On the slight breeze that lifted suddenly, Lostariel whispered her last goodbyes. Then, as other spiders bounded through the trees, it screeched and pounced.

The trees screamed.

XXXXXXX

The tiny elfling braced his legs against the tree's roots and forced his body further into the tree. It was a natural instinct-to get as far away from danger as possible, and trees equalled safety for wood elves. His innocent young mind had absolutely no idea what it was that had been chasing them, only that its screech resounded evil in his pure heart. It had caught Faelwen. But he hadn't the time to dwell on that, for the intensity of the trees' screams both shocked him and pained him to the very core of his fea. Never before had he heard any living thing in such agony. Then there was another shriek, like Faelwen's. He tried desperately not to whimper. _Nana, what's happening? Where are you?_

The elfling waited and waited, until the trees ceased their cries and resumed their normal sounds. The oak tree relaxed its roots around him and groaned exhaustedly. He took his hands away from his ears and placed them on Mellon. He heard elves talking outside. They sounded sad, and were discussing evil spiders. His nana's name made him start. He unclenched his eyes and stared straight into the face of an ancient elf.

XXXXXXX

Suiadan was both shocked and scared by the death of his queen. The scene his company had stumbled upon had hit them all hard, and that was just the beginning. Shockwaves would run through Eryn Galen. And Thranduil...  
_How will the king cope?_ The loss of family wasn't exactly alien to Thranduil, Suiadan knew; he had been born in the generation before Thranduil, and as a friend and mentor, had watched him grow up. _This will hit him hard. Too hard. Maybe enough to_...Suiadan shook his head sharply. He could not allow himself to think like that. The elves in his company swiftly covered the queen's face with a cloak and they stood around her, bowing their heads and paying their respects as was customary.

A small whimper broke the silence. The elves spun round, searching for the cause of the sound. One ellon pointed to an ancient beech the other side of the clearing. The entire company gazed at it. There was a hole in the trunk...a hole small though for an elfling? Suiadan jumped up and fairly sprinted to the tree, followed by his companions. Suiadan fell to his knees and stared into the mouth of the hole. He found himself looking straight into the shocking blue eyes of a little boy. He was crouched in the shelter of the trunk, terrified and clutching a soft toy. Even though he had been expecting it, the sudden appearance of the child shocked him. After a few moments he regained the use of his voice.  
"Are you alright, Legolas? Are you hurting anywhere?" The young prince shook his head. Strands of gold fell elegantly across his pale face. He looked so like his adar. Still stunned at having found the son of the King in the middle of the forest with his dead naneth only a few feet away, Suiadan yanked his head back out of the hole long enough to hiss barely audible orders at his men.  
"Make a litter; we cannot linger here too long. Keep watching the trees for spiders." No sooner had he returned his head to the hole he heard Legolas' voice. It was so thin, so quiet...completely unlike the normal voice of the elfling. His sensitive ears barely heard it.  
"Where's nana?" Suiadan gulped nervously. What would one say to an elfling in such a situation?  
"Umm, she's sleeping, tithen pen."  
"I want to see her." Legolas' voice was muffled; he had buried his head in the stuffed toy. Suiadan felt a hand on his shoulder and withdrew from the hole. One of his soldiers, Bregolas, replaced him. Bregolas would be better off dealing with this, he thought. He had two of his own, though they were far older now.  
"Legolas, tithen pen, do you want to come out? It's nice and warm out here, and the nasty monsters are gone." There was the sound of shuffling and scraping, and Bregolas finally stood with the little elfling and his toy safe in his arms, to the quiet cheers of the other warriors.  
"You're sure they are gone?" His eyes darted around nervously, never settling on any one thing. The presence of so many unfamiliar faces couldn't have helped, either.  
"Yes, I'm sure. We made them go ourselves. That's what we do. It's our job." At this statement the prince seemed to come alive.  
"Really?"  
"Really." Suiadan looked around and saw that many of his men had stopped doing their tasks to watch their prince. "Do you want to play a game whilst we're getting ready to leave?" Legolas thought about saying yes, that was obvious. But then his tiny brow creased and a shadow of worry crossed his face.  
"I'm already playing a game, with nana." Bregolas shot him a fearful glance. How much should they reveal? Suiadan cleared his throat. All eyes in the clearing focused on him. He focused his own on Bregolas, hoping that he would explain what he so desperately wanted to avoid. Bregolas merely shook his head ever so slightly and sat down, placing the elfling on the floor and holding his hand.  
"Do not worry, little prince. We can play our own game, can we not? I'm sure your naneth wouldn't mind." He did his best to engage the prince in a game invented swiftly out of tossing stones. Little more than a few paces away, the other ellyn lifted the queen's body onto a hastily constructed litter. The breeze caught the cloak shrouding the queen's face, and blew it loose.  
As soon as he saw her Legolas tugged his hand free and ran to his naneth, the person who had given her life for his own, though he knew it not.  
"Nana! Nana? The game's over now. Nana!" The hope in the elfling's voice quickly gave way to fear and desperation. Suiadan felt a slight prickling in the corners of his eyes. He knew that the others had tears in their eyes too. For all the elfling's attempts to wake her were in vain. They knew their queen's spirit had already fled.  
"Nana!"

Ai, Valar. What was he going to tell Thranduil?


	2. Chapter 1

_Hey guys! First of all, I'm really sorry – I messed up spectacularly, and I'm only three chapters in. See, I didn't intend to write about the contents of this chapter, and it was only after I'd written the next chapter that I realized I did want to write about it. So, I've had to slot this one in before the last, which means you've read the prologue and the 2nd chapter but not the 1st xD Sorry!_  
_Next – a huge, huge thank you to everyone who had reviewed, followed and faved this fic! I really appreciate it :D_  
_I don't quite know how people react after the loss of someone as special as a wife or a mother. All I can do is try to empathize and the rest is guesswork. Please don't be angry or annoyed if what I'm writing doesn't seem realistic...just tell me, and I will listen and do my best to correct it : )_

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Chapter 1

In the beautiful wilderness of the forest, a small herd of deer grazed contentedly under the shelter of the trees. They were blissfully unaware of the danger they were in. Thranduil, King of Eryn Galen, set his sights on the hart that led the group. He was hidden behind a tree some ten metres away from the striking creature and now, sensing a clean kill, he swiftly put an arrow to the string and drew. He silently mouthed a small prayer for the swift death of the beast he hunted. When he judged the time to be right he loosed the string. As he did so, he was suddenly overwhelmed by a piercing sense of loss. As if in slow motion, he saw his arrow strike the hart in the chest. The clean hit killed the animal instantly. As the hart crumpled to the ground, so did he. The myriad of emotions coursing through his brain and the sheer magnitude of the physical pain rocked him to the very core of his fea.

Before anything else could register, Thranduil was on his feet and sprinting for the caves. The pain dulled into a throbbing ache in his fea. He had to know what had happened to cause this pain. Deep down, he had an idea...but it was one he refused to acknowledge. He clenched his bow tight as he ran and his quiver rattled slightly against his back. _Lostariel, Legolas,_ was repeated like a mantra in his mind. It was all he could do to refrain from bellowing it out loud as he ran. If anything had happened to his wife or son...He felt, rather than saw, the eyes of the patrols guarding the settlement of his people. As he arrived at the fringes of the community surrounding the caves he slowed to a walk and rearranged his face into what he hoped was a calm and collected expression. His people milled around the Green, a clearing where festivals and dances were held in fair weather. It was a general centre of activity in the community, where friends met, games were played and traders set up shop. The hand around his bow was white. He walked through the clearing, smiling and nodding to those who saw him and greeted him happily. He was well-known among his people and as such his people didn't make a fuss whenever they saw him, much to Thranduil's great relief. He quickly made his way through the few hundred metres from the Green to the Caves.  
"My Lord!" The guards posted at the gates to the Caves saluted him as he approached. He recognised them both as members of his personal guard and acknowledged them with a quick, wavering smile.  
"Beldoron, Glandur...you wouldn't happen to know where the Queen is?" He asked, trying to keep his voice from wavering. Both guards frowned and shook their heads.  
"No, Lord." Beldoron said. "We have only just come on duty and taken up our posts." Before Thranduil could ask who was there before them, the guards faces changed and he turned around to follow their gaze. A company of his warriors emerged from the forest and. He was shocked to see the elfling curled up in Suiadan's arms. Behind him two warriors bore a litter on which lay a shrouded body. In that moment, it seemed as though the world stood still. The dull pain suddenly intensified and he realized he felt sick.  
"Ada!" Legolas' clear, high voice rang out. Thranduil heard such fear in his child's normally happy tone. He all but sprinted the few steps to snatch his elfling from the warrior and clutch him tightly to his chest. The elfling buried his head in Thranduil's shoulder and sobbed.  
"Nana...Nana..." In that moment, he was absorbed in the elfling's grief and distress. Paternal instinct immediately kicked in and he comforted his son automatically, whispering anything his mind could summon that might reassure him.  
"Shhh, tithen Las, it's okay. It's all going to be okay. I promise." He almost didn't notice Suiadan approaching him carefully.  
"My Lord...I'm sorry." The words barely registered. "There were reports of spiders and we went to investigate." He heard them as though from a great distance or as if he was listening through a wall. He noted vaguely that Legolas had stopped crying. "We killed the spiders, but, my Lord, the Queen..." Thranduil slowly shook his head. _No_. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes and threatened to spill. Ignoring the rest of what Suiadan was saying, he almost stumbled to the litter and with his free hand gently, ever so gently, lifted the cloak. His wife was beautiful. Were she not so starkly white, she could have passed as being in a deep sleep. She looked so peaceful and contented. He knew then, with absolute anguish and despair, that the bond he shared with his beloved wife was gone and the void it left was the source of the unbearable pain.

Thranduil was devastated. He had a moment of sheer panic when he couldn't figure out what to do or how he was going to live, before Legolas, who had shifted in his arms, caught sight of his mothers face and, with a yelp, shoved his head even further into his shoulder. Without thinking Thranduil raised a hand and stroked the elfling's flaxen hair gently, his eyes not once leaving Lostariel's ashen face. Then he realized where they were standing and straightened up. It would not do for all of his people to see their king thus.  
"Go...go inside...Arandur will tell you what to do." He didn't trust himself to speak any further or accompany them inside. With a last, tearful glance at his wife, he turned around and half-ran into the keep, not stopping until he reached his private rooms. He all but collapsed into his favourite armchair. Legolas was silent in his arms and had barely moved all the time his adar was walking.  
"Legolas?" Thranduil said softly, shifting his arms and brushing away some of the elfling's hair. Slowly he raised his head and Thranduil caught a glimpse of tiny fists, one around Mellon and the other around his tunic, both clenched so hard the knuckles where white. He tried to detach them to no avail. The elfling surprised him by speaking, though his words were muffled by Mellon and Thranduil's chest.  
"Ada? I left my archers in the forest. I'm really sorry!" The elfling began to cry again and after a moment, Thranduil realized tears were sliding down his cheeks too. "It's okay, baby. Don't worry. You'll get new ones." He crooned, hugging the boy and rocking slightly. It did nothing to alleviate the boy's tears. "I know...I know."

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They stayed like that for the half hour or so, and Thranduil lost track of time. Galion interrupted them to offer his condolences and to await orders but Thranduil sharply ordered him to go to Arandur. Legolas gradually distanced himself from his adar, step by step. The elfling tentatively took up the toy horses lying scattered on the floor and began to play. There was a ghost of a smile on the king's face as he watched. Whilst Legolas was engaged in his game, Arandur knocked the door and entered quietly.  
"Thranduil, I...I'm sorry." He said nothing more as he pulled the king he had known as an elfling into an embrace. Not since his adar's death in Mordor had he been hugged by anyone save his wife and child. Indeed, he had gone a long way to avoid contact with others, shutting off those of his friend he could, those who dwelled elsewhere especially. His cousin, Celeborn, and Elrond of Imladris were friends of his at one time yet he could not remember the last time he saw either of them. Arandur and Suiadan were very good friends of his too, having known him and his adar since before Menegroth was destroyed, but he become adept at pushing them ever further into their own work to distract them from him. Arandur pulled away and smiled at him kindly. "I'll take care of business today, and tomorrow...however long you need. I'm sure I can cope and anything I can't do I'll prioritize and either send to you or dismiss until your return." Thranduil nodded swiftly.  
"Set up extra patrols around the borders of the residences, if you haven't already. I want those spiders hunted down and butchered. They are bold indeed to venture so close to this settlement; they must be taught to fear us again. Make sure everyone attends the council meeting tomorrow morning, Arandur, and suspend petitions until further notice?" The older elf nodded briskly and made for the door. He hesitated at the room's threshold.  
"You will get through this, Thranduil. You and Legolas, both." The words seemed matter-of-fact but both elves knew that Arandur was attempting to convince himself. Then he left, and Thranduil was left alone with Legolas. The elfling was curled up in his nana's chair, galloping a horse up and down its arm. He was about to sit down when his son spoke.  
"Ada! Play with me!" He said imperiously, and held out one of his wooden figures. Thranduil smiled and took the toy gently, proceeding to play with the boy. Lostariel and he had established that Legolas adored horses at a very young age. Thranduil had carved three of the ones they now played with himself. He remembered how happy Legolas had been when he had gotten them for his birthday, and how happy his joy had made Lostariel. The memory brought back the anguish he had just begun to squash. "Ada?" Legolas shook his sleeve firmly. Thranduil smiled, brushing away his tears, and continued to play.

XXXXXXX

When time came for the elfling to sleep, Thranduil expected a challenge and he was right. Legolas was adamant he was staying awake and had quickly taken to shouting and crying every time Thranduil went to tuck him in, once he realized it gained him the desired effect of staying up. This went on for a couple of hours or so, with Thranduil alternating between telling the elfling stories, trying to put him to bed and attempting to find out just why he didn't want to sleep. He ascertained that Legolas was afraid of nightmares and the spiders he had seen. Thranduil was furious that his elfling had been exposed to such horrors, especially at such a tender age. It got to the point where both of them were more than ready for a good night's sleep. At nigh on midnight, exhausted as he was, Legolas could not cry anymore. He just sat there, half-awake, lingering on the borders of reality and death-filled nightmares. Eventually he lay down and stared at the ceiling. His adar took this as a good sign.  
"Legolas?"  
"Ada, I don't want to be afraid." The elfling said with a small voice, and his bottom lip trembled. Thranduil gave him what he hoped was an encouraging smile.  
"You won't be, little leaf. Come, lie with me. We'll sleep together tonight, hmm?" The elfling had yet to break his habit of waking up in the night and climbing into bed with his parents. Thranduil saw no harm in simply letting the elfling stay with him...all things considered. Adar and elfling curled up together and, after a long while, the elfling fell into a troubled sleep. Once he had done so Thranduil crumbled. In sleep, the elfling didn't need him as he had done during the day. In the dark of the night he was alone; there was no one left to be strong for. _What do I do now?_ He was lost. Thranduil, King of Eryn Galen, buried his head in the pillows and wept.


	3. Chapter 2

_Sorry for not writing more this time! This is just a post to fill in the gaps. From now, we can knuckle down to the actual story. I don't actually have a set plot for this, nor do I know how complicated it will get. I'm a pretty simple writer and I tend to doubt my own ability to weave an intricate plot. But hey, I might surprise myself._  
_To read more about the time frame of this story, and where it slots into the timeline of Middle Earth, see the bottom of this fic. I will post it there for all the people who don't want to read it can skip it. Please read and review, and thank you for those who have reviewed, followed, or added this story to their favourites already! I am also still looking for a beta reader, to help me along the way_ :D

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Chapter 2

"Give it back!"  
"Why? It is ours!"  
"You said I could use it!"  
"We didn't say how long you could have it for, though!"  
Elrond sighed and looked up from his paperwork, having decided that he could no longer simply ignore the conflict raging before him. Arwen was trying to regain possession of a book and failing miserably in the attempt; Elladan and Elrohir were tossing the object back and forth between them. Though the situation was obviously unfair to his daughter, Elrond was loathe to put an end to the antics of his sons. It had been too long since they had looked so carefree. Yet, a glimpse of his daughter's furious face made up his mind.  
"Elladan, Elrohir, stop tormenting your sister."  
"Sorry, ada." Identical voices rang out in unison. Both youths had stopped their teasing to look at their father and now Arwen took advantage of the distraction by rugby-tackling Elladan, knocking him to the floor and snatching the book in the process.  
"Such unladylike behaviour, Ari!" Elrohir laughed, only to be met with an even more unladylike scowl. Elladan was about to say something else when a knock on the door made the room's occupants freeze.  
"Enter," Elrond called out. Erestor swept into the room with Glorfindel close behind. Both wore serious expressions. Elrond stood to greet them. "Elladan, Elrohir, Arwen..." he gestured to the door. All three frowned at being left out of the impending discussion but none voiced their complaint as they swiftly left the room, Arwen closing the door behind them. Elrond immediately turned to his long-time friends and advisors. "What is it?" Erestor thrust a letter at him.  
"This has just arrived, from Mirkwood." The Lord of Imladris looked at the letter's open seal and surmised that his two most trusted friends and advisors had already read its contents. Elrond took the letter from the envelope and began to read. He got no further than a couple of lines before he sat back, blowing out his breath through his mouth.  
"Truly? Lostariel is dead?" He shook his head. "This is not good. How is Thranduil coping? And with a young elfling, no less?" He gazed determinedly at each of his friends in turn. "We were going to visit them anyway. It is long overdue as it is. Maybe...maybe, having been through a similar...loss, we can help."  
"Is it wise, to still take the children? They have never recovered from Celebrian's choice." Both Glorfindel and Erestor noticed Elrond wince at his wife's name. Nevertheless, Glorfindel continued. "Will this only serve to re-open wounds that are still healing?" Erestor shook his head.  
"It will, at least, give the twins something to think about - other than butchering orcs. It will also provide them all with the opportunity to escape Imladris...and, the painful memories it currently holds for them."  
"They are already grieving, and struggling to release that grief. Seeing Thranduil and his elfling struggle through a similar loss, and endeavouring to aid them along the way...I believe it would help them more than we yet know." Elrond said decisively. "Now, would you both be so kind as to finish preparing for our journey? I will inform the Elladan, Elrohir and Arwen of our decision."

XXXXXXX

Elrond found his children in their naneth's garden. Arwen was curled up on a bench next to Elrohir, thoroughly engrossed in the book she had won earlier. To Elrond's dismay the twins were scouring a map, engaged in a hushed discussion about future orc-hunting locations. Elladan and Elrohir ceased their talk and looked at him guiltily as he stepped onto the patio. Then, upon glancing at her adar's forlorn expression, Arwen sat up and dropped her book into her lap.  
"What is it, ada?" Elladan asked gently.  
"We must go to Mirkwood –" Elrohir cut in.  
"We were going anyways! Why so hasty all of a sudden? What news did Erestor and Glorfindel bring, ada?" Elrond took a deep breath.  
"Lostariel is dead, killed by a spider while out in the forest." The twins were stunned. They had frequently visited Mirkwood since their tender years due to their naneth's strong friendship with its queen, and they had adored her as she did them. Arwen had known her less well, and had conversed with her mostly through letters; but nevertheless would miss her presence and guidance dearly. Tears welled in her eyes. Elrohir placed an arm around his sister's slender shoulders. The twins were stoically refusing to acknowledge their tears, Elrond saw. They had shown increasingly little emotion since their naneth's departure.  
"Yes, ada, the sooner we leave the better. Thranduil will need our support, I think." Elladan said softly. The flicker of pain in his eyes did not go unnoticed by Elrond. Elrohir smiled grimly even as his sister rested her head on his shoulder.  
"Then what are we waiting for?"

XXXXXXX

It took the rest of the day for the party to sort their affairs and make ready to leave. The morning after the letter was delivered saw Elrond, his children, Erestor and Glorfindel leave the valley and begin their journey to Thranduil's halls.

* * *

_Elladan and Elrohir are twins in my story, which is never explicitly stated by Tolkien but considering he places their births in the same year, can be safely assumed as canon. Technically, they are much older than Legolas as is Arwen – Elladan and Elrohir were born in TA 130, and Arwen in TA 241. I believe that we can safely assume that Legolas wasn't born until after TA 1000. Sauron relocates to Dol Guldur in TA 1050 and takes up the disguise of the "Necromancer", but flees when he thinks he is about to be found out. He returns in TA 2460, and it is well after this that I am placing Legolas' birth. I am, for the sake of this story, disrupting canon and moving Elladan, Elrohir and by extension Arwen's birthdays forward, so they are not so old compared to Legolas. They are all older than him still, and all have reached their majority and are thus counted as adults – and have been for some time._


	4. Chapter 3

_This chapter is, hopefully, a bit of an insight into the way little Legolas thinks and sees the world. Hopefully. Of course, with my lack of technique it is probably awful but oh well. If you have any feedback, positive or negative, please review and tell me? I can't improve if I don't know what is wrong, and I lack the incentive to continue posting if I'm not encouraged! As ever, thank you to those who have reviewed, followed and favourited this story and a huge, huge thank you for reading!_

**_A quick reminder that I am forever changing this story slightly, so if you want continuity at times you may have to go back and re-read chapters. This was not my intention at all; I just made the mistake of posting too soon. Thank you for your patience and support!_**

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Chapter 4

Thranduil awoke to the steady rhythm of his son's breathing. It took a second or two for his head to clear and remember that he had stayed in Legolas' room for the past couple of nights. The elfling wasn't sleeping too well; his nights were plagued by terrible nightmares. Of what, Thranduil had no doubts. Legolas spoke in his sleep, sometimes incoherently, sometimes as clear as if he were awake. He would wake up in the middle of the night, screaming and crying inconsolably. Always, his dreams were about spiders and his naneth. Thranduil comforted him to the best of his abilities but he couldn't help feeling like he was failing the elfling – even more than he already had. Constant guilt gnawed away at him inside. He turned his thoughts to the mound of paperwork waiting for him in his office. In just a day the work had amassed so that it covered his entire desk. He knew Arandur was doing his best but most things that went through the king's council needed his own signature as proof of agreement. He needed to do some work today. Perhaps it would even be good for him. It would be good for Legolas to get out and about too. The elfling had spent the entire day yesterday cooped up in his room, seeing no one but his adar. It was bad for him and Thranduil wanted life to continue as normally as possible. The elfling was subdued, and of course he had his nightmares, but that was to be expected. Other than that he played and generally seemed happy. He didn't ask after his naneth at all. He worried that Legolas didn't really understand what had happened to Lostariel. It was all so easy for the elfling to say "yes" to having understood something, when really it hadn't sunk in. How does one tell a little elfling in no uncertain terms that his naneth is never, ever coming back? Perhaps the burial would help them both come to terms with their loss. But, Thranduil had not yet been able to think about arranging the funeral, yet alone carrying it out. He didn't want to say goodbye. He should never have to say goodbye. The king sighed and stretched out, attempting to shake the thoughts from his mind.  
"Ada?" Legolas whispered, stirring and squinting against the bright morning light.  
"Good morning, tithen las." Thranduil smiled as warmly as he could. He was rewarded with a small smile as the elfling fished his cuddly pony, Mellon, from underneath the duvet. "I must go to my office now, Las." As the elfling's face fell, Thranduil hastily added, "Only for a little while. You can come in whenever you like. Be good for Gwireth." At Legolas' reluctant nod he rose and went to his own rooms through the door that connected their bedchambers. He noted that the room had been meticulously cleaned in his absence and freshly cleaned clothes hung in his wardrobe. He swiftly dressed and settled in his office next door, after poking his head through the door to ask a servant to fetch Arandur and instead finding a somewhat subdued Gwireth on her way to his son's room. The paperwork was staggering...he had never liked it in the first place, but when there was twice as much as usual? Thranduil picked up the first stack of papers and began to read.

XXXXXXX

Legolas clutched Mellon and watched his ada go. Not long after Gwireth, his nanny, came in carrying a tray laden with porridge and honey, a bread roll and a cup of milk.  
"Fair morning, ernil nin." She said quietly. Legolas thought she looked sad, which was different because normally she was very happy.  
"Good morning." He replied in a very small voice before frowning at himself. Warriors and princes were meant to sound strong and brave, not small and weak. He hugged Mellon even closer. His nanny placed the food down on the small table in the corner and left him again. Gwireth came back quickly, this time with a basket of washed clothes. She looked happier now.  
"I've brought these back for you, perhaps you can help me hang them up?" Gwireth said kindly, placing the bag by his wardrobe and beckoning to him with one hand. He didn't really want to work; he wanted to play with ada. But he remembered his ada's lessons about doing chores in return for time to play so he went over to his nanny. They slipped clothes onto hangers which Gwireth placed in the wardrobe and the chest of drawers across the room. As they worked Legolas stayed silent whilst Gwireth talked to him about her family. Legolas liked visiting Gwireth's home. Her naneth and adar were old and full of stories about faraway lands and kings and dragons and her brother was an archer. Maeron was fun and as happy as his sister. He had a nice bow, but it wasn't as nice as his ada's.  
"He is on leave at the moment," Gwireth said whilst speaking about Maeron. "He was hurt on a patrol – but he's better now," she said quickly when Legolas froze. "That is why I was a little upset earlier. Perhaps you would like to visit him? He always enjoys your visits, as do we all." Maeron had been hurt, like his nana had been hurt. He didn't really listen to Gwireth after that. Soon, the bag was empty. Gwireth decided that it was a lovely day so go outside and walk for a while, so Legolas picked up Mellon from the floor and fetched his other favourite cuddly toy, a fawn called Arasse. He wanted to be happy to be outside. But nobody else was. The elves in the courtyard were all sad and quiet. When he came out they had stopped talking. Legolas was used to them looking at him, but he felt different this time. When he reached the middle of the courtyard the blacksmith, Beldir, came over to him and bowed. Legolas frowned. These people were his friends; they rarely bowed to him properly.  
" Ernil nin," He began, then paused to loom back at the others. Everyone had stopped to watch. "I am very sorry for your loss. The queen was adored here; we all loved her very much and we will miss her greatly." He nodded gravely and others came forward too, each of them saying the same thing. Legolas didn't know how to respond. He was reminded of all the pain he felt at being separated from his nana, and he didn't know what to do. Tears welled in his eyes.  
"Hush now, quiet! Can't you see he is upset?" Gwireth scolded everyone around him. He missed nana so much. He clutched Mellon and Arasse to him and said a quick "thank you" to the people, before fairly fleeing through the gates. The trees were quieter; they greeted him with soft whispers. He was very glad they weren't screaming and he couldn't see any danger. But he stayed as close as he could to Gwireth anyways, just in case. If his nanny noticed she didn't say anything.  
They reached the Green and the people there were happier. There tables and a makeshift bar in one corner, where elves sat and talked and drank together. Traders had set up tables displaying their wares along the one borders of the field, and Legolas wanted to go see what they were selling. He knew a couple sold toys. In the far corner of the field were the archery targets for the games. Legolas loved watching them. In the evening and on holiday days they held archery and fighting competitions, and horse races. Most of the time though, they just played cards on the tables. Galion and another elf were sitting there now, with a group of others watching their game. Gwireth tutted her disapproval and Legolas knew he was meant to be working.  
"Come, Legolas." She ushered him back over to the trees but he wanted to go to the trader's tables. "No, Legolas. Not today." She said sternly. Whilst he was looking back at the traders, he tripped and dropped Mellon. He picked him up as fast as he could, but the pony was covered in earth on one side. "Oh, clumsy!" Gwireth said, but she didn't mean it nastily. She took Mellon and shook him slightly but it didn't get him clean. "We'll have to have him washed when we get back to the Keep."  
"You can't wash him!" Legolas looked at her in horror and, when she raised Mellon out of his reach, he positively shouted. "Give him back! He's mine, I need him, give him back!"  
"Legolas!" Gwireth cried but he didn't listen. "Legolas, calm down! You can have him back for the time being!" With that, she lowered her hand and Legolas snatched Mellon back. He was hot and angry and crying. Ada and nana and Mellon and Arasse were his best friends. Nana was gone and now Gwireth was trying to take Mellon too. He hugged the pony as hard as he possibly could. "We're going back inside now." Gwireth said. She sounded angry, he had upset her. Legolas sniffed and scowled even more. _She still tried to take Mellon._ As they walked he got more and more frustrated because the tears in his eyes were sticky and sore. He couldn't see properly but he couldn't wipe his eyes because Mellon and Arasse were under each arm. He tried to reach his arms but couldn't and he wouldn't let go of his toys. And Gwireth was leaving him behind. He still wanted to stay close to her just in case something happened. When he nearly walked into a tree trunk Gwireth noticed and came over to him. "Oh, Legolas, silly, why don't you wipe your eyes? Come here." She cupped his cheek and user her handkerchief to wipe his eyes. "Don't cry. I won't take Mellon, I promise." She said with a smile and with that promise, he smiled back. They continued back home and by the time he reached his room, Legolas was quite happy again. He sat down on the floor with Mellon ad Arasse and started playing. He pretended that Mellon was a prince, and Arasse was his best friend. They were travelling and exploring together. Gwireth watched him a moment, before busying herself making some minor repairs to some of the elfling's clothes. Legolas was so caught up in his game, that when Gwireth asked him what he wanted for lunch he didn't hear at first. He startled at his nanny's light touch on his shoulder.  
"I said, what would you like for lunch, little one?" He glanced up at her to answer – and froze. It was on the wall behind Gwireth. Black and hairy and huge. He stared at it for a second before fear overtook him.  
"Adaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

XXXXXXX

Thranduil had barely unearthed a third of his paperwork by lunchtime. He already felt exhausted and ready for bed, and he idly wondered whilst listening to Arandur, whether it was an effect of losing Lostariel. He hardened his heart to the grief and pain that the thought caused.  
"Hir nin?" Arandur said, watching him concernedly. He shook his head slightly.  
"I'm fine. What were you saying?"  
"That it would perhaps be best if we looked around for a better price before we accept the trade from Dale." Thranduil pursed his lips as he thought.  
"We've never had to before. What has caused the price to raise so?" Arandur opened his mouth to reply but he was interrupted.  
"Adaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" Thranduil leapt to his feet, knocking over his chair in his rush to get to the door. He had just opened the door to his own chambers when a terrified Legolas flew into his arms.  
"Legolas, what is it? Calm down!" He said, but the elfling ignored him and sobbed into his shoulder. The poor child was shaking. Thranduil was confused; what in Arda had upset his elfling this much, inside his very own walls? He rocked Legolas gently, trying to soothe him. Gwireth had followed her charge out and, after a hasty curtsy, proceeded to explain the cause of his elfling's distress and the interruption to his work.  
"A spider, aran nin. There was a spider on his bedroom wall." Ah. Thranduil understood immediately.  
"Is it still there?" Thranduil asked, both relieved and saddened by the fact that a small, harmless spider had upset Legolas. He felt guilty, though he knew that he couldn't be blamed for a spider on the wall. Gwireth nodded. Thranduil smiled and thanked her before leading the two adults through to Legolas' room. Legolas sniffled and wiped his eyes as they moved. Thranduil eyed the spider on Legolas' wall distastefully. He wasn't bothered by small, everyday spiders but it didn't mean he liked them and anything that scared his Legolas was a foe to him. Still, he put the elfling down and spoke. "Not every spider is bad, Legolas. You've seen spiders like this before and never been bothered, hmm?" The elfling nodded, still unsure but much calmer than a few moments ago. He gently reached out and swiftly scooped the spider into his hands. It was as though the spider knew the lesson being taught. It stayed relatively still after taking a few tentative steps. "Look, ion nin. It is harmless."  
"What will you do with it?" Legolas asked, not taking his eyes off the spider.  
"Gwireth will take it outside." Thranduil said, depositing the spider in the elleth's hands before she could protest. She looked at him with a mixture of anger and horror as he quickly steered her towards the door. He closed the door and acknowledged that the poor creature had probably been squashed already. Both Arandur and Legolas were smiling when he turned round.  
"I don't think Gwireth likes spiders either, ada." Legolas said quietly.  
"No, I don't think she does." Thranduil grinned then caught sight of the dirty toy on the floor. "What happened to Mellon?"  
"I dropped him outside." The elfling's lower lip trembled and Thranduil suspected that there was something else to the story.  
"Legolas, he is dirty. I know you love him and take him everywhere, but he needs to be washed. I promise he'll be done by the end of the day?" Thranduil held out a hand for Mellon.  
"But, but, I don't want him to leave at all, I want him to stay. Nana made him for me!" The words tumbled out of the elfling's mouth and Thranduil saw tears in his eyes. He tried to ignore the pain that the mention of his wife brought.  
"I know. I know nana made him. And nana would like him to be looked after properly, yes? That means he needs to be washed. You know he won't be gone for long. Just the rest of today."  
"Just for today?" Legolas clarified.  
"I promise." The boy hugged the toy closer before handing it over with a whispered goodbye. Thranduil went to open the door to find someone to take Mellon for him but the guilty expression that crossed his son's face stopped him. "What have you done, tithen pen?"  
"I...I shouted at Gwireth, ada. She was trying to take Mellon away and I got angry."  
"She was trying to take him away?" Thranduil questioned. It was unlike the nanny to do that without an explanation, and it was unlike Legolas to ever protest so vehemently against so little a thing. Legolas hesitated, evidently re-thinking the entire encounter, before shaking his head slowly.  
"She just wanted to wash him. I'm sorry ada." He said, head bowed. Thranduil was concerned. His elfling didn't shout at people, especially not in a nasty way. He wanted Legolas to be the happy, carefree little boy he always was.  
"It's not me you need to apologize to, ion nin. Shouting is never nice especially when directed at friends and good people. I think you overreacted a little, don't you?" He said sternly and Legolas nodded. Thranduil opened the door to find Gwireth outside. He invited her back into the room and turned to Legolas expectantly.  
"I'm sorry for shouting at you earlier. I know you were only trying to help." The elfling said. His eyes were sincere and he looked straight at Gwireth as he spoke, and Thranduil knew he meant every word.  
"It's quite alright, ernil nin." Gwireth smiled and touched the boy's shoulder.  
"Could you take this to be washed? Oh – and you can go home afterwards, or attend any other duties you may have. Legolas will stay with me this afternoon."  
"Are you sure, aran nin?" Gwireth said, knowing how likely it was that Legolas would disturb him even further. But at her king's nod she took the cuddly toy and left. "  
"Come on, Legolas. You can play in here, my room and my office. But try to be quiet. Arandur and I are working. And don't even think about going near my bow, sword or knives, eh?" Legolas nodded and quietly hugged Arasse. Thranduil returned the elfling's small smile before gesturing to Arandur and returning to his office. "Now, where were we?" As Arandur began to discuss the increasing price of wool, Thranduil heard Legolas move into his adar's room and begin to wage a miniature war.

XXXXXXX

It was mid-afternoon when a lightly armoured messenger from one of the patrols came cantering into the Keep's courtyard. Thranduil had already been made aware of the ellon's approach, and he stood waiting to receive him outside. The elf dismounted lightly and bowed.  
"Aran nin, my patrol encountered riders along the Enchanted River. Lord Elrond approaches, accompanied by five others. They will arrive within the hour." Thranduil thanked him and bade him rest his horse a while before returning to duty. Then he turned to those standing behind him. "Marcaunon?"  
"Yes, aran nin?" The chamberlain bowed briskly.  
"Make ready chambers for our guests and alert Ivreniel to their presence."  
"Yes, aran nin." Marcaunon scurried off back into the caves, barking orders as he went. Ivreniel, the housekeeper, and Marcaunon would between them ensure that the guests would have chambers, servants to see to their needs and food ready for them upon their arrival. Thranduil sent a questioning look at Arandur, who smiled not at all sheepishly.  
"I thought it wise to alert the other realms as to the, ah, your loss. Surely, you can understand him wanting to visit in person? His children knew Lostariel very well." He said, before Thranduil cut him off.  
"Of course, yes. They are welcome." He didn't know if he believed that, or whether he thought Elrond had come to meddle. Perhaps the past day or so spent in almost complete isolation was rubbing off on him and he was taking on the characteristics of a recluse. Either way, before Celebrian sailed West they had been friendly and he was willing to rekindle that friendship. Thranduil retreated to his rooms where he proceeded to search his wardrobe for a suitable tunic for greeting guests.  
"Ada?"  
"Aye, tithen las?"  
"Who is coming?"  
"Lord Elrond, of Imladris and doubtless his children." He decided on a more formal blue tunic and after glancing at himself in a mirror turned his attention to his son. "Go and wash your hands and face." The elfling raced to his bathroom and did as he was told before running back.  
"I know them! You and nana have told me about them!" He said excitedly, jumping on and off his bed. The elfling's mood was infectious and Thranduil smiled happily at his joy. It was good to see the elfling so cheerful...but the thought quickly died and became guilt, guilt that Lostariel wasn't here with them, guilt that he had ever felt happy without her at his side.  
"I know we have. Stand still," Thranduil gave Legolas a tunic similar to his own. It was blue and silver and it matched the elfling's eyes brilliantly. After giving him leggings to match he sat the elfling down at his little table and started to brush his flaxen hair.  
"Will they be here soon?"  
"Yes, they will. You must be good for them, Legolas." He separated the soft hair into strands that he wove around each other to form a neat braid.  
"I will ada. I promise!"  
"Stay still, Las! There," he tied off the braid with a small strip of leather and sat back to examine his handiwork. "You are ready." His elfling was beautiful. He loved him so much. A horn rang out, echoing through the stone rooms and corridors of the Caves. It signalled the impending arrival of Elrond.  
"Let's go, ada!" Legolas grasped his hand and tugged, and he willingly followed his son to the courtyard, where they stood and awaited their guests.


	5. Chapter 4

_Hi guys, sorry this is late...I spent forever last week typing out over 6,000 words for this chapter...only to lose it all when my laptop broke. I was gutted...I had worked and am still working through through heat sickness and a nasty ear infection at the moment! I broke down and cried. But, I didn't give up! This is rubbish compared to what I did write but after losing the original I'm past caring, to be honest._

_Thank you to everyone who had reviewed, followed and faved this so far. I really, really appreciate it. I hope you all enjoy this chapter!_

_Things probably seem happy now, but I'm not planning for them to be for long. Enjoy whilst you can ;)_

_Yes, I've decided to give Glorfindel and Thranduil some history. No, it probably won't be something that plays a great part in this story...so if you're a stickler for solid canon I apologise (though, if you were you'd probably have already given up on this but that is beside the point). I figure that it is entirely possible that Glorfindel may have visited Menegroth at some point and met a young Thranduil (I'm placing Thranduil's birth around 30-40 years before the Second Kinslaying)._

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Chapter 4

"We've almost arrived, hir nin." Elrond jumped slightly at their escort's words. He nodded at the warrior before turning to look behind him, prepared to put a stop to the hissed insults that were currently being exchanged by his children.  
"Enough," He said coldly, with as much dignity as he could muster in front of the Mirkwood scout. The trio shut their mouths instantly; they at least knew when it was time to be obedient. Arwen looked guiltily at him, whereas the twins at least had the grace to look contrite even if they weren't. He turned back to watch the path and as he did so caught a glimpse of Glorfindel's grin.  
"It appears, my friend, that you have developed the rather convenient ability to ignore them." The golden-haired elf laughed.  
"Hmph. I should be so lucky. Silly elflings." Erestor muttered as he casted a scowl at the younger elves behind him. Elrond send a questioning glance at the balrog-slayer.  
"They ignored him when he asked them to be quiet," Glorfindel explained with a laugh, and for good measure Erestor glared at him too. Elrond couldn't help but smile though he knew he shouldn't.

XXXXXXX

What little remained of their journey passed quickly and they soon reached the outskirts of Eryn Galen's main conurbation. Once they passed another patrol, signs of the area's occupation came thick and fast. The trees thinned out here in comparison to other areas of the forest they had ridden through, but the majority of them had a talan in their boughs. Most of their inhabitants were working or resting on the forest floor in the wide spaces between the trees. Curious elves turned to watch them pass, and more than a few greeted them in a friendly manner. In the distance between the trees Elrond could see the sheer stone slopes of the small mountain in which Aran Thranduil dwelt. They were on a small path, likely seldom used by anyone other than the residents of the talans in this area and Elrond had most definitely not used it before.  
He glanced behind him and was pleased to see the twins behaving completely. He noted how quiet and watchful the normally merry folk of Eryn Galen were and put it down to the queen's death and fear of the horrific spiders that haunted the forest – spiders that he was extremely grateful they hadn't encountered on their way here. As he contemplated the effects of the encroaching darkness in the south of Mirkwood, they turned onto a much larger path.  
"We're here!" The twins said in unison, recognising the road as the main one to the keep, which was far closer than Elrond had originally thought. They had turned onto the road just a few feet from the bridge across the Forest River, which they would cross before continuing on through the forest for a few hundred yards before they would encounter the palace.  
"As light as ever," Glorfindel murmured. "This place at least has been kept from the darkness."  
"Yet the queen perished not so far from here in what should have obviously been a safe place." Erestor replied immediately.  
"Thranduil struggles daily with the evil in his forest. With as little aid as he has, I'm impressed he is doing half as well as he seems to be. Yet I fear that for all his efforts it may prove to be a fruitless conquest." Elrond said, and before either of his friends could reply, he silently asked them for silence. It would not do to have such conversations in public...in the very realm they were discussing. He had noticed how tense their escort had become whilst overhearing their short exchange. Erestor and Glorfindel picked up on it immediately and didn't broach the subject again. Elrond watched the elves around them stop their work to see the foreigners pass by. The settlement was not the most easily accessible of places, and he guessed that they rarely had visitors whose importance was beyond than that of a merchant. They drew ever closer to the caverns. Intricately wrought iron gates marked the boundary of the palace's courtyard and through the gaps in the metal Elrond could see Thranduil and his court awaiting their arrival. The gates swung open as they approached. The last remaining elvenking was an imposing figure. Tall, broad-shouldered and muscular, he was strikingly similar to his father in appearance. They shared the flaxen hair that shone like spun gold in the sun, and striking emerald eyes that often seemed so guarded, yet held so much expression to those who knew him well. Today though, the elvenking was a little less imposing. Naturally, he was mourning the loss of the elleth he had bound his fea and hroa to. Elrond knew some of the pain he was feeling, had felt it himself. The king probably looked as though he was doing reasonably well to people who hadn't met him before...but to those who knew him, he looked terrible.  
"Mae govannen, Lord Elrond! And welcome to Eryn Galen," Thranduil's battle-trained voice was perfectly pitched to carry across the courtyard without the need for shouting. Loud as it was, his voice was hoarse and raw. Elrond saw the dullness in his eyes, the way his normally proud bearing was non-existent, and the careless way in which he greeted them. He inclined his head slightly before touching his breast with his right hand, swinging it outwards in the traditional elven greeting, but the movement was less graceful and more just a random gesture.  
"Mae govannen Thranduil, Aran O Eyrn Galen." Elrond said formally, returning the formal greeting before stepping closer and clasping the other elf's shoulder firmly. "It has been too long," He said with a soft smile. Thranduil merely nodded once before his pained eyes flicked to Erestor and Glorfindel.  
"Ah, the Lords Erestor and Glorfindel. Welcome, old friends." Thranduil said, and the two lords smiled at him.  
"Still friends then, are we? I was beginning to wonder!" Glorfindel teased, but his smile vanished when the jest had no effect on Thranduil at all. Once again, the elvenking's only reply was a curt nod. Elrond saw Glorfindel's put-out expression before the elf quickly covered it up. The two had been good friends, having first met in Menegroth before its fall and again in Lindon after the balrog-slayer's re-embodiment. Erestor also bowed and Thranduil turned to Elrond's children.  
"Welcome back, young ones." He said, and for the first time a smile flickered at the corners of his mouth, though it didn't spread any further. The three inclined their heads in unison.  
"Mae govannen, Aran Thranduil." They spoke together.  
"It is a pleasure to return here, lord." Elladan said with a small smile.  
"It is a pleasure to see you all again." Thranduil replied before turning and beckoning encouragingly to someone Elrond couldn't see. Then, a small elfling slipped from beside one of the elleth on the steps and came down to stand beside Thranduil.  
"This is Legolas, my son." The elvenking gave them a true smile as he gently pushed the elfling so that he moved forwards a couple of steps. Legolas bowed and offered his hand in greeting before shrinking back against his adar's legs. Elrond started; even as Thranduil closely resembled Oropher, this little one was the spitting image of him. He smiled at the child.  
"Hello, Legolas. It's very nice to meet you," he said. The elfling's gaze darted up to his adar but he didn't reply. As he watched Legolas' eyes flick up, Elrond noticed their colour. Legolas' eyes were a clear blue, whereas Thranduil's were a bright emerald green. _Not entirely a spitting image,_ Elrond corrected himself.  
"Make the most of his silence whilst you can; he is normally full of questions." Thranduil said, a slight frown now on his face as he gazed at his child.  
"Oh, I don't doubt that. Remember what these three were like?" Elrond said wryly, nodding his head back towards the twins and Arwen.  
"Indeed, I do." Thranduil said but any traces of happiness he had shown at Legolas' appearance had vanished and the unsmiling mask was back in place.  
"Remethiel and Cugedhiel will show you to your rooms," Thranduil said, and two elleth came forward and curtsied. "The bell will ring for dinner. Until then, I will be in my office...you are most welcome to partake in whatever activities you wish. Nowhere here is barred to you." Thranduil nodded to them before disappearing into the caves.  
"Well, let's get settled in then." Erestor said. Elrond nodded absentmindedly. He was thinking about how awful the king had looked.  
"I'm glad we came, Elrond. I fear for him." Glorfindel could have read his mind.  
"It is only natural that he grieves." Erestor frowned. "Who wouldn't? Many come close to fading after the loss of a loved one-" And then the lore master clamped his mouth shut. Elrond smiled faintly.  
"You don't have to guard your tongue around me, Erestor. I am perfectly capable of hearing you talk about loss. Celebrian...is gone, and I am as recovered as I am going to get." Erestor nodded to him and continued.  
"As I was saying, many come close to fading after losing a loved one...especially a family member like a wife, child, parent or sibling. Thranduil with teeter on the brink. But he will endure as most others do."  
"You don't know him like I do." Glorfindel countered. "He has lost so much already, Erestor. Parents, family, everything. He encounters happiness for the first time since the Last Alliance in the form of his wife...and then she too is taken from him." Elrond grinned ruefully. Just like turned to his friends.  
"I brought us here because I, as you know, experienced this too. Thranduil cannot afford to fade. I cannot afford to leave it to others to prevent him from doing so. He is a friend, a close friend at one point. I can help him and so I will. Not only is he a friend, he is the king of a dying forest. A forest that has only survived this far because of his sheer, dogged determination. His people thrive here, away from the darkness. The loss of Lostariel their queen was a stark reminder of what lies to the south. If they lose Thranduil...what then will become of them? No one else can afford to take on the burden that is Mirkwood, I can't and Celeborn and Galadriel can't and these elves will not leave their beloved forest to its doom. They will fight and die. And Sauron, if it is indeed Sauron, will be even closer to gaining mastery of Middle Earth."


End file.
